


The Problem with Blancmange

by AlexSimon



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Cooking, Gen, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 05:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5193590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexSimon/pseuds/AlexSimon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Segundus cooks.<br/>Yup, that's about it.<br/>(thanks to the prompt on the kink meme for the inspiration)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Problem with Blancmange

Emma Pole had an audience. 

It was a small one, admittedly, but an audience nonetheless and one that was interested in her quickly cooling lunch. Presently, Mr Segundus and Mr Honeyfoot were on either side of her chair, both frowning in concern at her untouched soup and back at her. 

"You must eat," said Mr Segundus. 

"Why must I?" asked Lady Pole. She had been assured by Norrell that she had a very long life ahead of her exactly as she was. Whatever magic stole her away each night would certainly keep her alive if she did not eat. 

"You are very thin, Lady Pole," said Mr Honeyfoot in his fatherly way. 

"It doesn't matter how thin I am, or how my clothes fit. I go nowhere that matters."

Mr Segundus and Mr Honeyfoot exchanged glances and though neither could see it, Lady Pole thought their scrunched brows very similar. 

"It hurts us to see you so disheartened, Lady Pole," said Mr Segundus. 

"I am very sorry that you are hurt," she said a bit sharply. It was pleasurable at the time to vent some of her anger, but the hurt look on Mr Segundus' face took away any relief she gained from the moment 

"I am sorry," Lady Pole mumbled to her hands. She felt even worse at the soft smile she was given in return for her vexation. 

"No, you must not be sorry," said Mr Segundus. "We are full of understanding of your predicament." 

They were not, but Lady Pole could say nothing that would help them to the understanding they desired. 

"Is there nothing you will eat?" asked Mr Honeyfoot. "If it is possible and good for you, you only must say and we will comply." 

Emma Pole sighed to herself. There was nothing, but she felt she must say something to ease their nerves.

"I would like a blancmange," she said, without real feeling. 

On either side of her, two faces brightened. 

"Of course!" said Mr Segundus. 

"Yes, by all means!" said Mr Honeyfoot. 

She looked back and forth between the two men, who rose to their feet nodding happily at one another. They were relieved that she had made some request, taken some interest in the things that happened around her. It was as close to a comfort as she had. Mr Segundus and Mr Honeyfoot begged her wait with assurances that her blancmange would arrive shortly. 

In the kitchen, the men consulted their one book on cookery with their scholarly heads bent over the text. 

"It is not so different from magic," said Mr Segundus cheerfully. "The book says it is simple!"

"Are you sure?" 

"I must be," said Mr Segundus. "It all she wants."

Together, they gathered the necessary ingredients and piled them on the working table in the kitchen. 

"Someone should go sit with Lady Pole," observed Mr Honeyfoot. "She has been alone for some time now and I do not like to think of it." 

Mr Segundus agreed and it was decided that it would be he that cooked while Mr Honeyfoot read to Lady Pole. 

John Segundus found that to begin a blancmange was easy enough and he was thrilled as he mixed the first of the ingredients, thinking that he might bring some joy to poor Lady Pole. He imagined a smile coming across face as she ate and he smiled to himself. This was not the career he had imagined, but he thought that in the end, he was not doing poorly at all with it. He hummed at the mixture in the bowl. 

However, things quickly began to go awry as he attempted to mix, as instructed, cold milk into a warm mixture while whisking. 

He did not know what happened, but he was presented with a cascade of milk bubbles over his pot, a small burn to one of his fingers, and an unusable mixture.  
He proceeded to start over, now feeling a bit more frustrated, but undeterred. 

And then he burned the milk as he lost himself in study of the recipe as he attempted to discern what had gone wrong the first time. 

It was necessary to scrub the pot after this misadventure and at this point, Mr Segundus admitted that he was feeling a bit over-warm and tired he but did become disheartened.  
Mr Honeyfoot peeked into the kitchen as he was beginning the third attempt. 

"Are you nearly finished?" he asked. Mr Segundus was shaking his head at the pot as he dried it with a towel. 

"Oh Mr Honeyfoot, I have not begun! Please tell Lady Pole I will work as fast as I can." 

Mr Segundus was much more careful this time and quite happily watched the stove as his work cooked At what should have been the proper time, he pulled the pan off of the heat, only to presented with a very unappealing sort of mass in the pan. 

He set to work to discover the error, only to find that he had, in his hasty third attempt, made the very simple error mixing up the salt and the sugar. He said out loud some words he normally did not say.

The afternoon was quickly darkening. Mr Segundus looked at the very messy kitchen and the ruined blancmange with great distress. He pushed his hair back from his forehead, which was now a bit sweaty, accidentally distributing the cornstarch from his hands to his hair. There was nothing to do but to begin again. For the fourth time, he mixed and whisked and warmed and cooked and as he stood in front of the stove, John Segundus even prayed at bit. 

Whether it was Mr Segundus' hard work, or some other intervention, he was rewarded with a perfect blancmange and he beamed. 

There was some to wait after for the thing to cool, which he spent cleaning, yet again. Mr Segundus was thoroughly spent. His hair hung in front of his eyes and he noticed the cornstarch now. His clothes were wet and his feet ached. However, each time he spied the cooling blancmange, his heart lifted and he soon began to sing to himself as he worked.  
It was with joy that he finally presented his blancmange to Lady Pole in the early evening. 

"Oh look, Lady Pole!" said Mr Honeyfoot when his friend entered the room. "Look at what Mr Segundus has done! Very good, Mr Segundus, very good!" 

Mr Segundus smiled at Mr Honeyfoot, who always had a way of making him feel very happy about his successes, not matter how small. 

"Lady Pole?" asked Mr Segundus. 

She lifted her eyes to him and said nothing. Mr Segundus' eagerness refused to dissolve under her initial disinterest. 

"Is it as you wished?" 

"It is fine, Mr Segundus." 

John Segundus sighed softly to himself, but then quickly resumed his smile toward Lady Pole. He leaned down next to her chair and took a spoon of the blancmange and lifted it.

"Will you try it now?" 

She stared at the spoon and Mr Segundus inched it a bit closer to her.

"I am not hungry after all," said Emma Pole. 

Mt Segundus' entire body slouched in disappointment. 

"But Lady Pole. It is all you wanted..." 

"I am sorry, Mr Segundus. I have no stomach for food." She turned her face away from the spoon. She wished more than anything that she could explain, but it was impossible. 

"Maybe I did not do it right," muttered Mr Segundus to himself. He took the spoonful of blancmange he was going to offer to Lady Pole to and ate it himself. It was, he was relieved to find, delicious. This lifted his spirits slightly. 

"It is perfect!" 

"Oh, may I try?" asked Mr Honeyfoot, who had some experience with young women and their sometimes finicky eating habits. 

Mr Segundus passed the plate to his friend.. Mr Honeyfoot took a bite and declared it well done, giving a hopeful look to Lady Pole. He was not met with a response, so gave the food back to Mr Segundus, who again knelt by Lady Pole's chair. 

"Please, Lady Pole." 

He lifted the spoon and once more, Lady Pole turned her face.

"I am not sure if you are aware, Lady Pole, but...I have worked very hard on this! To have you not even take one bite is very disappointing. I beg you, please."

In response, Lady Pole moved her head even farther from the spoon. 

"Do not worry," he said. He gave the young lady's hand a gentle pat. "I understand. Perhaps tomorrow you will feel better." 

"Yes, tomorrow!" said Mr Honeyfoot. "In any case, Mr Segundus, we now have a wonderful blancmange for later." 

"I suppose," said Mr Segundus, looking down a bit warily at the plate in his hand. "that we do."


End file.
